


What's in a Weasley?

by idkman07



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Oblivious Harry, fluff fluff fluff, ginny's sassy as hell, harrys in love and doesn't even realize, some sexual themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 05:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14513124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkman07/pseuds/idkman07
Summary: He couldn't fancy Ginny. He wouldn't let himself. Fancying Ginny was like fancying- a centaur. Not that she looked like a centaur or anything. She was too pretty for that. She was- oh, bugger all.





	What's in a Weasley?

Harry Potter groaned into his forearm in exhausted exasperation. He had been working on this History of Magic essay for- well, as long as he could remember, and he’d barely even made a dent in the required length. He tapped his quill on the parchment a few times, hoping some sort of inspiration would take over and just start writing the paper for him.

“Harry?” A voice sounded behind him, and he almost jumped out of his chair before noticing it was just Ron’s little sister, Ginny.

“Merlin, Ginny, it’s just you.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly before turning back to her. “You scared me.” He pointed out obviously. She grinned slightly, a weird light moving over her face, before inching closer to the desk he was working at.

“What are you working on?” She murmured, her voice no louder than a light breeze. She was so close her long, red tresses brushed against his shoulder with every slight turn of her head. A pleasant, intoxicating smell almost like flowers filled the air, and it took a second to realize it was coming from _her_ and by then it smelled so nice he was almost dizzy.

“Er-“ He shook his head, trying to remember what she had asked. What in Merlin’s beard was going on with him? This was Ginny. Ginny _Weasley_. Ron’s little sister. The one who ran away from him whenever he entered a room. The one who sent him a singing dwarf on Valentine’s Day. The one who was surprisingly good at all of the spells he was teaching in Dumbledore’s Army. The one who smelled like flowers and was so close her hair brushed against his skin.

“Harry.” She repeated, almost like a purr now. He looked up at her slightly, mouth opening at her narrowed, shining eyes and bright pink lips. “Do you want to take a break?” He did. He wanted to so bad his whole body ached. He nodded slightly, never removing his gaze from her porcelain skin and her soft, _soft_ lips. She smiled slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip as she leaned in slowly, slowly, _slowly-_

“HARRY!” A screech resounded, jolting him up in bed. He let out a cry of pain as his head hit the top of the four-poster, rubbing the hurt spot miserably.

“Hermione?” He croaked, his eyes creaking open to see his best friend with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. “Wasswrong? Whatisit?” He garbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“What’s _wrong,_ Harry, is that you’re an hour late to breakfast!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Why Ronald never thought to wake you up is beyond me.”

“Bugger.” He swore, about to rip the blankets off when he realized his- er- _pressing_ problem. His jaw fell slack, cheeks heating up as little fragments of his dream started to come back to him. Flowers. Lips. Ginny’s lips. _Ginny._

“Give me a minute.” He gritted out, looking down at the floor, knowing Hermione would see the blush in an instant.

“Harry, I’ve given you _sixty_ minutes, and you never would’ve gotten up if I hadn’t-“

“I said I’ll be out in a minute, for Merlin’s sake!” He cried, shooting her an exasperated look. He would’ve thought this whole ordeal would be enough to get rid of the hard-on, but it was still there, trying to remind him of how good Ginny smelled when she was that close.

“Are-are you feeling alright, Harry?” Hermione asked, a concerned tone in her voice as she stepped closer. He made an embarrassed noise as she placed the back of her hand on his forehead, trying to push her off without moving the lower half of his body. “You look a bit flushed.”

“Merlin, ‘Mionie, I’m _fine._ ” He protested. “I just- I need to get dressed, alright? I’ll come down in five minutes.” She gave him a long look before nodding, and he was so relieved he almost wept.

“Five minutes. If you’re not down in five minutes, I’m coming back up.”

“Yes, yes, alright.” He waved, looking at her expectedly until she sighed and left the room, looking back at him before closing the door. As soon as he heard the lock click, he felt down onto the bed, trying to consider his options. He supposed he could have a quick wank to get rid of his problem, but five minutes to wank and get dressed was cutting it short. He wasn’t _that_ good at it, and the thought of Hermione entering in the middle of it made him shudder audibly. Merlin, he couldn’t wank over _Ginny_ , could he? Ron’s little sister. The image of Ron’s head on her body made the hard-on lessen considerably. He had no idea he’d even noticed her like that. Of course, she was nice-looking, but nothing to gawk at. She’d always just been there, over summer holidays, in a pink frilly robe. Always been the little girl he saved in the Chamber. Until now. Until he’d gotten hard over a barely-there dream of her. He vaguely wondered what would’ve happened if Hermione hadn’t woken him up. He felt a stirring again- _lower_ \- and ordered himself to get a grip, for Hippogriff’s sake, and raced to get dressed before Hermione broke the door down.

 

Just when he was convinced he’d stopped thinking about her, that maybe the dream was a fluke, she was sitting a few seats down from them in the Great Hall! He was almost angry at her, like it was her fault he had that dream. He could barely look Ron in the eye as they sat down to breakfast.

“Hi Harry!” A voice that was unmistakably Ginny’s called from across the table. Harry looked up and waved half-heartedly, silently cursing whoever was playing this cruel trick on him. “Yesterday’s practice was incredible.” She said quietly, leaning closer so he could hear her. A weird humming filled his brain as he stared back. Her eyes- why hadn’t he noticed them before? They were brown, but in the light, gold flecks shimmered as she blinked. He was pretty sure he would’ve noticed that before. And it wasn’t just the dream. She really did smell that good. Huh.

“-okay, Harry?” The end of the sentence broke through his muddled brain. He blinked in surprise, suddenly noticing the concerned gleam in Ginny’s eyes.

“Er- fine. Yeah. Just tired.” He answered quickly, hoping it made sense to the question. She gave him a nod, still looking unsure. He leaned back and took a big bite of his toast. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione staring at him with a bit of a grin on her face. He made a point to ignore her.

“So..” Hermione started, tapping her fingers absentmindedly against her thigh. “You’ve finally come to your senses, have you?”

“Hm?” He answered back, half listening. Unfortunately, the only part of last night’s dream that was real was the History of Magic essay that he had yet to start. He’d managed to complete more than he had in the dream, but he still had a while to go.

“When’d you start fancying Ginny?” The bottle of ink in his hand dropped with a bang, glass breaking and ink going all over the floor. Hermione didn’t look concerned. In fact, her smirk widened, as if this somehow had confirmed her suspicions.

“I-I-“ He stuttered, growing red partly with embarrassment and partly with indignation. “I-Why would you even say that? What- have I done something, or- “

“Oh, you mean besides stare at her every chance you get? You’re not exactly subtle about it, Harry. I’m surprised Ron hasn’t even noticed, as thick as he is.” Hermione went on, giving him a knowing look.

“I don’t-“ He tried to argue, but it died on his tongue. Hermione was still smirking at him, but she could tell she genuinely wanted to know. Besides, he trusted her. “This morning.” He breathed out, a sense of relief washing over him. “I kind of had- well, anyway. This morning.” He got out, feeling extremely hot. Her eyebrows shot up to her forehead.

“ _This morning?”_ She asked incredulously. “Harry, you’ve been staring at her longer than this morning.”

“I-I have?” He gaped, wracking her brain for any memories of this occurring. He guesses he remembers seeing her around more often than usual, but that was just because of DA meetings. And yeah, he _guessed_ he remembers seeing her laughing with Michael Corner, and maybe the slight ache in his gut at the sight was starting to come back to him. But he couldn't fancy Ginny. He wouldn't let himself. Fancying Ginny was like fancying- a centaur. Not that she looked like a centaur or anything. She was too pretty for that. She was- oh, bugger all. “Blimey _, I have_.”

“Oh, Harry! You should ask her out on a date.” Hermione squealed, sounding every bit like a _girl._

“A date?” He repeated quietly, trying to wrap his brain around the idea. A flash of Ron angrily chasing him around Hogsmeade after catching them together entered his mind, and he shook his head. “But I- I barely even _know_ her, Hermione. I just think she’s-“

“Pretty?” Hermione finished with a half-grin. He glared at her, completely unamused. “Well, then just hang out. As friends. Either way, she’ll say yes.” His eyes widened at that, practically leaping to the edge of his seat.

“What d’you mean, she’ll say yes? Does she-“ He broke off, apparently in his own world. Hermione sighed, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder.

“Oh, Harry. You really don’t know a lot, do you?”

 


End file.
